Duties and Pastimes
It is from my first visit to the library that I date my real
initiation into the affairs of Atlantis. From that time forth I was
no longer a stranger in an unknown world; I became involved in such a
round of activities that I began to feel almost at home. For it was my
good fortune to have plenty to do, far more to do, in fact, than the
average Atlantean; and with the demands of the Sunken World calling me
on the one hand, and my old companions of the X-111 drawing me on the
other, I did not have far to seek for an interest in life.
First of all, of course, I was applying myself to my “History of the
Upper World.” It took me a month to plan the book, though meanwhile I
devoted hours a day to improving my knowledge of the Atlantean language
and institutions. And when finally I had completed my preliminary
outline it did not satisfy me entirely, and yet seemed adequate as a
working basis. The introductory section of the book--necessarily a
lengthy affair--was to be devoted to a description of the modern world,
to the various nations, their customs, languages, social systems,
scientific advances and wars; and having begun with this grand resume
of modern achievement, I intended to show the steps by which that
achievement had been consummated, and to picture in general the course
of those social fluctuations, those invasions, battles, slave-raids,
civil conflicts, religious persecutions, crusades, economic
revolutions, industrial tumults and international blood-feuds that have
brought civilisation to its present proud estate.
But while I was planning my book, my thoughts were frequently on more
personal subjects. And, having completed the outline, I could not
forget a certain invitation made me by the most fascinating woman in
Atlantis, but wasted no time about seeking her advice and approval.
Late one afternoon, when I knew that her tutoring would be over for
the day, I paid my second visit to her home. I went just a little
hesitatingly, I remember, yet not without some justifiable hope, for
our interview was to begin most auspiciously. It was Aelios herself
that came to the door in response to my knock; and it was Aelios that
escorted me into the house, with cordial greetings and delighted smiles
that reaffirmed my impression of her unrivaled merits.
“Well, my friend, I thought you would be coming,” said she, simply, as
we took seats side by side on the seaweed sofa we had occupied on my
first visit.
“But what made you think that?” I questioned.
“Why, didn’t you say you would come?” she returned, in unfeigned
surprise. “You’re undertaking a difficult task, you know--to write a
book in a strange language. Isn’t it only natural to want advice?”
“It is, indeed,” I confessed, and should have liked to add, “when I can
have such a charming adviser.”
“I suppose you’ve been working hard,” she continued, evidently unaware
of what was in my thoughts. “And, of course, you’ve brought something
with you to show me.”
“Yes, I have brought something,” I admitted; and, there being no
choice, I forthwith unfolded the paper that contained my plans for the
history.
For several minutes she gazed at it intently, her features furrowed
with thought, while eagerly I awaited her verdict.
“This is going to be very interesting,” she at length decided. “As far
as I can see, you’ve covered most of the important points. You will
find it easier than I thought to write in our language--your beginning
is most promising. Of course, you do make some errors of style....” And
she proceeded to point out my mistakes, in such a manner that I felt
certain never to repeat them.
For possibly an hour--or two--we discussed my outline, though all the
while I was conscious that there was something in Atlantis far more
interesting to me than my book.
I was still aware of that fact, when, at last, feeling that it was
growing late, I arose reluctantly to leave. As she took my hand, Aelios
flashed upon me her most genial smile, and requested, “Come again,
my friend. Perhaps I’ll be able to help you some more. Our doors are
always open, you know.”
“Well, if it wouldn’t be asking too much of you,” I started to reply,
fumbling for words, while the blood rushed all at once to my head.
“It will be a pleasure. And besides,”--here she hesitated momentarily,
and her fingers absently toyed with the folds of her gown--“besides, if
I help you with your book, I will also be helping the State.”
“Yes, possibly that’s true,” I conceded. And so what could I do but
agree to give Aelios a further opportunity to help the State?
But if I based any glamorous hopes upon her evident friendliness, I was
building without knowledge of my foundations. Not long after my visit
to her, a chance conversation showed me how far I was from that goal
which my more sanguine fancies pictured.
* * * * *
It was Xanocles that unwittingly made me see the difficulties. During
one of our numerous little talks, he touched casually upon the marriage
system of Atlantis. “The Milares Compulsory Population Law,” he
chanced to inform me, “is perhaps not the only reason for the present
superiority of the Atlantean stock. Another factor is what I may call
the marital selection. This is regulated primarily by custom and is
almost exclusively in the hands of the women, yet is so rigid that an
inferior man can hardly find a mate--indeed, a superior woman would be
disgraced by linking herself to a weakling.”
“But just what do you mean by a weakling?” I inquired.
Xanocles looked at me in surprise. “A weakling, of course, is one with
nothing to give to society. A great poet, for example, could never be
thought of as a weakling; nor a competent painter, nor philosopher,
nor musician, nor biologist. But the man whose contributions show no
particular skill or individuality is regarded as a weakling, no matter
what his pursuit. Naturally, he is not condemned so long as he does his
best; but he is not regarded as a fit subject for marriage except with
another weakling--and, needless to say, weaklings are not permitted to
propagate.”
If Xanocles noticed that I was moody and silent for the rest of the
day, the reason would not have been hard to find. I do not believe
that, in my own world, I had ever suffered from what is known as an
inferiority complex; but among the Atlanteans, with their higher
standards, mere honesty demanded that I question my own qualifications.
And what, I wondered, had I to offer to a woman such as Aelios? Would
not my meagre attainments appear childish and unattractive to her?
Even if I finished my “History of the Upper World,” would it not be a
second-rate affair, altogether incapable of winning her admiration? And
would I not, by comparison with the natives, be considered a weakling,
a man whom Aelios could not marry without incurring disgrace?
For days and weeks I was harassed by such thoughts; and it was to be
long before I had wholly recovered. Meanwhile, however, I was partially
consoled by the companionship of Xanocles. The friendship begun at
our first meeting, was strengthening and solidifying in the course
of the months; the proximity of our lodgings rendered it easy for us
to see one another, but there also seemed to be a certain proximity
of mind, which made each of us take pleasure in the company of the
other; and in spite of the gulf of race, training and experience, we
found that we actually had more in common than many persons who have
spent all their lives in the same home. And so he would often seek me
out, and we would spend hours exchanging ideas in the dim seclusion of
my rooms; and often I would seek him out, and we would hold friendly
debate in the quiet of his rooms; and not infrequently we might have
been seen strolling arm in arm about the city, while I pictured to him
the wonders and vastness of the upper world, or while he in his turn
regaled me with colorful reminiscences, and told how he was employed by
the State as a binder and designer of books, but how he spent his spare
time in writing economic and philosophical treatises or delivering
lectures in favor of the Emergence.
It was under the pilotage of Xanocles that I was introduced to the
social life of Atlantis. The Atlanteans did not spend all their time
in grave and serious pursuits, as I had at first imagined; they did
not devote themselves to art until it palled upon them, or seek for
beauty until it became blurred and illusory; but they knew how to vary
their lives and make them symmetrical, and they had quite as much time
for laughter and recreation as for earnest endeavor and sober thought.
Indeed, they proved to be an unusually sociable people; and after
I had entered with Xanocles into the rare spirit of their life and
pastimes, I was forced to conclude that a prime reason for the success
of Atlantean society was the sane balance it preserved, and the fact
that its more ideal aims were tempered by a recognition and a measured
encouragement of all the normal inclinations of man.
* * * * *
For sheer range and variety, the Atlantean pastimes excelled those of
any other people I had ever encountered. To begin with the simplest
first, there were athletic games, races and competitions that might
have been popular even in the upper world; and on the outskirts of
Archeon were fields where the young and even the middle-aged gathered
in crowds, testing their prowess by boxing and wrestling, by hurling
round, flat objects like the ancient discus, by sprinting along
specified race-courses, by engaging in a sort of ball game remotely
like tennis, or by participating in that more popular contest known as
“sortos,” which reminded me of baseball except for the fact that it
did not require so many players. I was surprised to observe that the
Atlanteans could enter into these sports with hot enthusiasm; but I
also noted that they could view their athletics with sanity, and were
interested in their games only while actually engaged in them, and did
not come forth in throngs as mere onlookers, nor waste time discussing
the contests beforehand or after they were over, nor prostitute their
spirit to a professional or commercial outlook.
Not less popular than the athletics--in fact, probably much more
popular--were the dances that featured prominently in Atlantean life.
These were of a hundred styles and varieties, from the ethereal
butterfly movements of trained women, such as Aelios, to the tripping
and capering of children keeping time spontaneously to the rhythm of
a song. Leaving out of account the dances for which unusual skill was
necessary, the most interesting to my mind were those held on the
polished floors of the temples, where as many as a hundred men and
women would gather, all swaying synchronously to the subdued beat of
the music, some in couples holding hands and some singly, but all
lightly passing back and forth with bird-like co-ordinated movements,
until as one watched, one lost sight of individuals and thought of them
all only as the parts of some exquisite, ever-varying whole.
It was not surprising to me to observe that the Atlantean love of the
dance was matched by an equal taste for music. Having no technical
musical knowledge, I cannot comment upon the Atlantean development
of the art, except to say that its cultivation was widespread, that
public concerts were held almost daily in the halls of Archeon, and
that invariably their effect upon me was pleasing beyond anything I had
ever heard on earth. Perhaps it was that the Atlantean music possessed
in high degree the power of awakening ecstasy and visions; perhaps it
was that its restrained melancholy and plaintive rapture were as keys,
that unlocked a universe beyond the universe of sense, and brought the
time-bound spirit into touch with the timeless; but, at all events, it
possessed a ravishing power reminding me of the most consummate violin
performances, and yet surpassing even the violin in the almost complete
severance it effected between body and soul.
Much the same may be said of the drama in Atlantis--a drama almost as
popular as the music, and built like the music upon that beauty which
reaches beyond time and space. The prose drama seems never to have been
introduced; poetry, as the natural vehicle for ecstatic expression,
was evidently regarded as the inevitable substance of all plays; and
the playwrights were all in a tradition that might have appealed to
Sophocles and Euripides, although they had never heard of those master
dramatists. Indeed, Atlantis had a score of dramatic writers who in
my judgment were in no way inferior to any produced by classical
Greece; and the best works of these authors, staged with picturesque
simplicity and presented by actors of power, afforded me some of the
most absorbing hours I passed during all my years in Atlantis.
But if delighted by such performances, I was not less pleased to note
that dramatics flourished also on a small scale. In any little social
gathering one of the most popular diversions would be the improvisation
and acting of short plays; and the proficiency of the Atlanteans in
this game seemed almost incredible to me, for the actors would not only
originate their own little dramas, but would speak their impromptu
lines with feeling and beauty; and so deeply was the spirit of poetry
engrained that long fluent passages of exceptional verse would
sometimes be delivered spontaneously.
Beyond these dramatic exhibitions, the chief private pastime of the
Atlanteans was in the art of discussion. To say that discussion was an
art is not to exaggerate; it was believed that the mark of the cultured
man was his ability to express himself intelligently; and themes for
consideration in an Atlantean drawing room varied from the latest
poetry and the latest music to the nature of the human personality
and the ultimate meaning of life. To the self-respecting citizen, it
would have been an insult to suggest that he avoid the boredom of
conversation by games of dominoes or cards; and it would have seemed
ludicrous to attempt to gossip concerning one’s food or clothes, one’s
athletic prowess, one’s neighbor’s idiosyncrasies or bad manners, or
any of those hundred and one subjects that might have proved diverting
in upper world conversation.
* * * * *
While Xanocles was introducing me to the social life of Atlantis, much
of my time was being taken up by social life of a different type. Now
that I had been elevated to the dignity of Atlantean citizenship, I
could not forget that I had thirty-eight comrades who aspired to a
similar honor. I saw fully as much of my former shipmates as before;
indeed, I saw some of them more than ever, and in particular Captain
Gavison, who would frequently visit me to exchange reminiscences; and I
rubbed shoulders with the whole crew at the regular bi-weekly meetings
of the Upper World Club, which were now held in my apartment.
These meetings were sometimes exciting affairs, perhaps because
there was little else in Atlantis which offered the possibility of
excitement. Looking back after the lapse of years, it is not easy
for me to recall just what there was to be agitated about; but it is
certain that we would be agitated indeed, and that there would be fiery
debates and discussions, which occasionally became so heated that
President Gavison would rap and rap with the bit of stone that served
him as gavel, raising his voice until he almost shouted and the sheer
awe of his presence would restore order. As nearly as I can remember,
most of the disputes were due to conflicting opinions of Atlantis; for
frequently one of the club members would denounce the Sunken World
in the most picturesque terms at his disposal; and immediately some
champion of Atlantis would spring to his feet in disagreement, and the
debate would wax fast and furious, most of the club taking a part,
until the imperious voice of the President would put an end to the
contest.
Sometimes, however, the altercation would be over some proposal for
improving our status in Atlantis. Many and curious were the views as
to the drawbacks of our lot; and one of our members would be likely
to suggest that we attempt the construction of a motor boat or of an
automobile; and another would be convinced that a prime shortcoming of
Atlantis was the absence of the phonograph or of motion pictures; and
many would toy fondly with the idea of escape, and would advocate wild
and wholly impractical schemes that would foment a tumult in the club.
As time went by, it became increasingly apparent that the majority
would never be reconciled to Atlantis; they felt estranged by its art,
overwhelmed by its majesty, irritated by its suave peacefulness; and
while they still studied the native language for several hours a day,
and at times derived much satisfaction from being allowed a part in the
native pastimes and athletics, yet on the whole they felt out of place
in an atmosphere not adapted to them, and were coming to look upon the
upper world as a sort of lost Elysium.
* * * * *
[Illustration: That this noise was somehow connected with the
quickening wind was apparent from the first; and the relationship
became evident when the path swerved abruptly away from the wall and I
glanced back, to behold a series of queer-looking machines supported on
stone pedestals high up against the glass. It would be impossible to
say just what the machines were like ... so swiftly were they rotating
that they formed each a gray blur through which the green of the wall
was vaguely discernible.]
* * * * *